Final Retribution
by SheerGlade
Summary: After the King of Evil was sealed away, the Sages understood - Power could never fall into the wrong hands again. And so it was split into innumerable shards, to hearts of all kinds, though they never anticipated the one shard to doom them all. R&R, OCs.
1. Prologue

**THE LEGEND OF ZELDA**

_Final Retribution_

**Prologue**

At the end of the day, the sky was changing – fading from that brightest gold so rich it rivaled an emperor's crown, faint stars sparkling like shimmering jewels in its rivets, to a darkest blue. Gold upon sapphire, it threatened to swallow the world whole in just a moment. In mere seconds, in the time it takes to throw a glance, clench a fist, breathe a last breath, night had come, and nothing scathed its dappled shell, except for stars, small and solitary.

And turrets.

Turrets, festooned with mist like oil used to swab a blade, pierced and stabbed the sky looming overhead like a hungry creature, threatening to crush the castle already so unbeaten and trembling from struggle. Foundations laid with sword-scathed stone and arrows crammed in the cracks between, the whole castle betrayed the war that had raged for seven years among its walls, both within and without. At this moment a soothing breeze, gently tousled grass, and the still pond within its courtyard hinted at a long-desired peace, restfulness finally achieved. Its inhabitants, however, were far too wise to believe such. Until the day they could be absolutely certain all was calm, those within its walls would always sit, tensed, with anxious muscles, anticipating the one false strike that might once again lay their kingdom to ruin. Eternally, they would wait, hand on hilt.

As the night slinked in, the silence it brought was so thick it permeated even the castle walls, the only sounds those that are discernible only in total quiet, or to a hunter honed to listening in vapid darkness, to hear the soft footsteps on carpet, the groaning of ancient wood, like crunches in fallen leaves.

In one room, locked far away from all the others, several rigid figures waited, silhouetted by fireglow and wisps of moonlight. Corridors away maids scuttled busily down the hall, dogs howled and yawned yards below outside the window, constant footfalls sounded on stone, wood, posh, plush carpet – yet not a soul stirred in this particular chamber. With the descent of the sun there arose walls of distaste for talk and idle chatter around each individual. Try as it might the humble fire in the corner could neither provide any warmth to dispel the ominous chill in the air, nor light their faces, each hung and masked with shadows. It was more or less there to keep them from feeling too isolated, its quiet grumbling reminding them they were still alive, in the mind-numbing silence that proscribed even the hum of breathing.

Each was there for the same reason – indistinguishable servants, each seated with the same fretful posture, the same aura teeming of fear and expectation.

With faces sallow as the shrouded moon they simply sat, and waited, cloaked with a dread as tangible as the clothes on their back.

Sitting. Waiting. Praying. That was all they knew, all they could remember ever knowing – until she cried, and their purpose reoccurred to them immediately.

In a flurry chairs were left rocking on their legs and some were overturned as each figure flew from their seat, cloaks flapping, through the threshold. In a straight file the servants ascended the winding stairway of the loftiest turret, following the voice crying out again and again in pain. Blue light flashed as they passed window after window, with each step the voice gaining volume, until cries became clear words:

"Link. . .Link – " Horrible gasps cut her short, and the servants rushed even faster.

By the time they reached the top the princess had finally settled down, her outcries becoming fainter still until at last she only breathed softly, gently. A small smile dressing her lips, she gripped her bulging stomach covered with blankets, and nodded weakly at her company.

All known among each other, the six figures finally uncloaked themselves, each grinning as they approached the princess they all loved so dearly. Never before had they seen her so vulnerable, fragile, and while some smiled gently, others frowned and shook their heads in furtive distress.

Save for the tall, pale woman in the corner who had known her since her birth, this was the first time any of them had seen her uncrowned and unadorned, yet even without the scarlet jewel gilding her forehead, her radiant eyes were enough of an ornament to her face on her own, and wavy hair fell around her like threads of gold. Her sapphire eyes pierced like knives even though the room flooded blue, and just like the rosy chiffon encompassing her canopy bed, her cheeks blushed a lovely pink.

Flanking her protectively, each of the six stared at this girl, this beautiful girl they knew and loved with all their hearts, in total wonder – pondering the memories they shared with her, her incredible strength now this shaming frailty, her marvelous soul – but mostly, the reason why she was here, struggling, gasping in pain.

None of them could believe it, even though they probably understood the reason better than any other.

As the princess's lips parted, each snapped from their stupor and inclined closer, transfixed.

"I am so glad. . .," she whispered, scarcely audible, ". . .you are all here with me now."

The small, green-haired girl, appearing nothing more than a child, stepped to the bedside and took the princess's hand. "Of course, Zelda," she said, smiling gently.

Zelda shifted a little, then met the girl's equally blue eyes. "Thank you, Saria."

Removing her shroud entirely, dropping it to the floor, a woman with a mess of shocking red hair, tan-skinned and clad skimpily in clothes designed for hot weather, stepped forward and kneeled at the bed.

"Nabooru. . .," Zelda murmured.

"You doing alright, babe?" Tenderly Nabooru smirked and fondled one of Zelda's small, silver earrings.

"Managing." Again Zelda offered the same feeble smile.

One by one the others approached, spoke softly, and took the princess's hand. The tall, imposing Goron looked away embarrassedly when tears formed in his eyes, then tried to make Zelda laugh as she began crying as well. The lovely Zora girl who looked no older than the princess tried to distract her with small talk whenever Zelda felt the pains coming on again, squealing joyfully whenever she put her hand on Zelda's belly and felt the baby kick, and the solemn but kind-faced old man constantly caressed Zelda's hair and smiled whenever he gazed at her round stomach. Each came forward and remained at the bedside, all except for the tall, pale woman, who stood nonchalantly in the corner, features shadowed.

When all fell silent, Zelda spoke the woman's name.

"Impa. . ."

Rigid, the woman did not even flinch, only brushed back a single strand of ivory hair hanging loose from her ponytail. Briskly her garnet eyes roved over the room, then the hands of all the sages coiled around Zelda's, and dipping her head, recoiled from the moonlight so that she was engulfed completely by the darkness.

"Princess," she finally grumbled, her voice deep but smooth. Repeatedly she saw the princess's hand in her mind, the pale, silky skin. She knew that when the others held Zelda's hand, they could feel that, her skin soft as cotton and smooth as water, but when Impa touched it, all she could feel was the ring that was not there.

Finally, Impa forced herself to meet the sapphire eyes she could no longer look at anymore without tears welling. In an environment where all life revolved around family, and upholding honor, and knowing Zelda had been raised as such so strictly, fiercely, accepting the reality that the princess was pregnant out of wedlock was hardest for Impa.

Of course Impa still loved her more than anything, anyone else in the world. Zelda was like her daughter, Impa was like her mother – their relationship was unshakable, and Impa had finally come to accept it like any truly understanding mother would.

But again and again, like forcing two mismatched pieces of a broken jar together, Impa could not unravel the princess's reasoning. Zelda was well beyond her years in wisdom, perhaps the most cogent person Impa could think of besides herself – generally, if it could not be proven to them, neither believed. It was logical reasoning that the two shared, that made Impa feel Zelda was so much like herself, she understood her actions before she committed them, at times the very thoughts racing in her mind.

And then Impa learned Zelda was with child –

And soon she felt she knew nothing.

But still, looking into Zelda's eyes as Impa's thoughts swarmed, she could see the knowing there, that even silently, they understood each other.

"Impa. . ." A dim smile formed on Zelda's lips, and she closed her eyes, sinking deeper into her pillows. "He and I both knew it might come to this. . ."

Suddenly, Impa stepped from the veil of shadows, light hitting her rugged body all at once. "And that, Princess," she said, speaking with such an uncommon urgency all the sages turned to look, "is exactly what I don't understand."

Unmoving, Zelda's eyes remained close. "I admit, I did do something foolish, Impa."

"Which is so very unlike you." Realizing the desperation in her stance, swiftly Impa drew herself back into her full, imposing height, and crossed her arms coolly. Though it had only taken her a second to recover, Zelda caught it.

"I cannot remember you ever letting your guard down, Impa," she murmured enigmatically. Darunia, the Goron, looked at her bewilderedly, while the others turned to Impa.

Impa's mouth twitched. ". . .I admit, I did do something foolish, Zelda."

Smile broadening, Zelda's eyes fluttered open. "Which is so very unlike you."

Before Impa could react, Ruto the Zora sighed, exasperated. "Ugh, you two, can't you just be normal for on – " Nabooru's hand over her mouth abruptly cut her off.

"Impa. . .," Zelda sighed, her frail form drooping even more with exhaustion, ". . .I know how my father's mind works, how the majority of Hyrule's minds work. Without a reputation, a person is nothing." With her free hand she brushed back sweaty golden bangs, shaking her head slightly. "I lived my whole life abiding by that, but never truly believing it. I think it is because of you, that I learned to discern the truth from things, how corrupt perceptions can be.

"All my life, Impa, you were all I had. When that man – no, I'll say his name, _Ganondorf_ – " Her tongue crawled with the word. " – came to the castle, and I had that dream. . .You were the only one who believed me." Staring blindly before, Zelda now looked upward, to meet Impa's eyes. "Until _he_ came. He came, and listened to me, and believed me, and treated me kindly, like a real person with feelings and a soul. He was one of the only people to treat me like that – and every time he came back, I loved him more. He was my best friend, I was his, and we were a team."

She looked down again, clamping her eyes shut.

"And even though it was my doing that caused our downfall in the first place, he brought us up again, wouldn't stop, not once worrying about himself, but me, and everyone else – and we were a team again, and made everything right again. _We all did_." Their hands intertwined, their grips tightened, and slowly tears lined Zelda's eyes as she went on.

"When we were together, in the sky, and it was finally _all over_. . ." She breathed the words heavily, with a certain weight. "I thought as soon as I took the Ocarina away from my lips, he would be gone forever. . .but when time reset, and I found myself young again, staring through the window – I turned around – and he was there. He was there for me, to live the dream with me after we'd all gone through the nightmare. . ."

With tears flowing, Zelda gazed at Impa. "We lived those seven years together. Over time we began to feel like children again, to forget the realities of being adults. . .until it dawned on the both of us. . ."

She smiled, though everyone present could see the pain piercing her at every angle.

"I am a princess. He had no reputation. He was nothing."

Pulling her hand away, Zelda drew them both to her face and then knotted her fingers in her hair with disgust, as though she could tear the pain away.

"He saved us all. Without him, _we all would be nothing_. And when time reset, there were so many with memories of him still, they knew it was true, and understood – he will not die forgotten. He'll be a legend, forever. Everyone will know, except. . ." Her throat burning, finally Zelda doubled over in sobs, only her trembling shoulders visible as she cloaked herself in her golden hair. Concerned, the sages tried to calm her, told her she couldn't get so worked up, in her condition, and finally, she took deep breaths and went on.

"Everyone except father. . .The night Ganondorf finally took over – "

"Shh, Princess," Rauru whispered, touching a hand to her back.

"Yes, I'm sorry, all of you," Zelda murmured, rubbing her face, "but Impa. . ." She glanced up. "Do you see?"

Impa stared.

"Impa. . .I love Link so much. And both of us knew, and I – I will never feel I have to justify myself. I will never regret it. I wanted to have his child. . ." Her tone softening, she unclenched the fists that had formed and lowered herself back onto her pillows as she spoke softly, "I only regret that, for _honor's sake_. . ." Her small lips curled. ". . .I will not be able to keep him."

At last, in total solace, Zelda closed her eyes and sought for sleep, and smoothly, swiftly, at last Impa drew closer and took her hand, only able to feel the soft skin of her fingers. For several hours the princess rested unperturbed, as the six others gathered there merely spoke softly, infrequently, still bewildered at the sight of the fragile girl before them.

"Has the baby really been kept a secret this whole time, Impa?" Saria asked, the room so silent even her still, small voice was like the crash of glass against the floor.

Impa nodded gravely. "No one outside the castle's walls knows. . ." Stiffly she turned to gaze out the single arched window in the room, then dipped her head to the shadows. "And no one ever will."

Scratching his overgrown, tawny beard, Darunia grunted. "Is the matter of reputation so significant to the king, that his daughter cannot keep her own child?"

"Absolutely," Nabooru replied without hesitation. Having served as ambassador to the Gerudos for several years now, just as anyone with a position in the king's court, she was accustomed to the king's ways, and most of all, his incredible stubbornness. "Though it is not only the king."

Ruto nodded in consent. "Zelda is the kingdom's pride and joy. . .were the inhabitants of Castle Town to find out, it would not be long before it spread over the whole country, perhaps even farther. . .And if its princess could not uphold an ancient code, all the neighboring countries, and those living in Hyrule itself, might stop respecting the kingdom, namely authority, itself."

Leaning back in her chair, Nabooru folded her arms. "Yes. . . 'If the princess does not uphold the law herself, why should we?' That is how it would be."

"Perhaps you are overthinking it a bit," Rauru said, "but I agree."

"Everyone in Hyrule," Ruto snarled, biting her lip, "is the same. Basing everything on the same stereotypical reasoning, an imaginary hierarchy. With money, looks, family, comes position. Almost everyone. . ." Her tone dropping and eyes drifting shut, Ruto gazed at Zelda, sleeping peacefully. "She and Link. . .were never like that. They understood each other, how it was supposed to be." Glancing upward, her fierce expression returned. "The people are so shallow."

Nervously, Saria twiddled her thumbs. "If anyone were to ever find out, as much as they love Zelda. . .it would ruin her. When she came to power, no one would. . ." Round eyes troubled, she trailed off.

"Even so. . .," Rauru breathed deeply, "the Princess would not give up this child for the world. And she would give anything to have Link here with her, now. As would I. . ."

A silence of mutual agreement settled over the room. Finally, Impa broke in over Zelda's soft breathing.

"No one has said a word about it though. Even maids as gossipy as Hyrule's can have their silence bought with the threat of a death sentence." Massaging her gloved fingers together, she cut a glance at each of the sages.

"It is truly that serious," Darunia muttered.

"Yes," Impa sighed. "And I never even dreamed we would all be here now, waiting on the Princess's baby. . ." Ever her voice, slogged down with stone, could not conceal the smile playing on her lips. "There is a family in Kakariko, who is going to keep the child. They know nothing of his heritage, and do not ask – they are just happy to have a child to call their own. . .I know them personally, and I know the world over, I could not find better parents for the Princess's child."

Smiling, all the sages nodded joint sanction, eyes riveted on Zelda as they did so.

"That is wonderful. . .," Nabooru sighed, plump lips parted in a grin, "but is it true, Impa, that I hear _his majesty_ is already planning Zelda's engagement to the Prince of Lunaea?" She spoke the words with contempt, like a bitter taste on her tongue.

Still as a board, Impa's mouth barely twitched. "It is true."

"Ay, our poor princess. . ." Sighing deeply, Nabooru reached and tucked a gossamer lock behind the princess's long ear, then buried her face in her hands.

"The king would not have it that his line be carried on solely that of unroyal blood. . .," Impa murmured, for the first time contempt scratching her throat, "so it was arranged. Zelda knows. She is trying to stay strong. And the young man knows nothing, and what I have heard of him so far, he is a kind young man. . .which, all things considered, is the type of person I want Zelda to have by her side."

She gazed forward fiercely, as though at something until the life gave out of it – yet nothing was there, only the few stars sparkling outside the window, in the blue infinity.

"She needs someone who will be there, no matter what. Who can always be there, no matter what."

_I am not blaming him._

It is not his fault.

But he and I both knew. . .

He could never stay.

Gradually Impa was able to shake herself from visions of a bloodied warrior donned in green as she grew cognizant of the voices around her, still conversing.

"The pieces of the Triforce. . ."

"Zelda still has hers."

"As soon as Link leaves Hyrule, he will possess his no more."

"And as for Ganon, Power will never fall into the hands of evil again," Nabooru declared confidently, but then went on, with a furtive expression and soft voice, "at least not in one piece."

"With time," Impa said firmly, "all will be right again, just as it was and always has been. Of course crisis comes and goes. . .but in the end, all will be right."

Once more the six sages nodded their agreement, though Saria spoke gently,

"That is true. But it's still sad to me, that he, his children will never know where they from. . .that his parents are the two that shaped, saved this country."

A tender breeze floating through the window, the silken curtain caught and drifted on the current, until finally the wind recoiled and retreated back the way it had come, lost forever in the endless sky.

". . .Yes," Impa agreed, nodding solemnly, though as she spoke the last words, eyeing the gently rippling folds of the curtain, a rare, hopeful grin spread on her lips. "But maybe, someday, he will."


	2. Chapter One

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA

**Final Retribution**

**Chapter One**

_Far off in the desert she waits, she watches. Forever she sits, appearing idle and dazed, though in her mind, war rages. Day after day she sits, waits, watches, and at no cost to her. She has been for years, will be for countless more. Time costs her nothing._

For years she has waited. So what is the price of waiting just a little longer?

* * *

"And plunging his blade through the beast's head, the Hero of Time, with the power of the Princess and the six Sages, banished the Great King of Evil into the depths of the Sacred Realm, where he drifted endlessly, only to reflect, to remain himself, a failure. . .forever." Zorina's voice cut like a knife in the silence of the dark room, almost as piercing as the thought of floating in nothingness, forever, seemed to her. The chirp of songbirds outside the window drew her eyes from the book they had watched for hours, and the sudden flash of pale sunbeams through the blinds made her head ache.

Looking around for the first time for ages, Zorina baffled at the citrus light patching the floor, the dim sparkles seeping through closed windows, and sighed, turning back to the book with dismay, realizing that yet another night's sleep had eluded her reading its pages.

Zorina read many books – but when sleep seemed inevitable, it was this book she always chose from the shelf, its pages only now tearing after so many years of usage. It was not so much its contents that enticed her but that it was a book of her childhood, filled with so many forgotten days and memories she could tap from its yellowed pages, at times she would sit all through the night and carry on reading into the day.

In the crinkled leaves she could see visages of a mother she barely remembered, almost hear the sweet, lolling voice speak the words as she read them on the page. Once the feel of cotton pillows was so vivid against her cheek that she woke to find she'd fallen asleep, reading – lulled to sleep by the words still echoing in her head, the tender voice that greeted her only in the elegant script of this book.

Even now as the sun rose she continued to read, unperturbed by the tawny locks as they fell from her bun and spilled over the words. The old floorboards creaked, an owl hooted persistently from its perch – not a thing stole her attention, until she heard the faint footsteps crunching through the grass outside.

_Was that. . .?_

Shaking her head dismissively, she turned back to her desk. But there was the sound again, the footfalls sounding more frequently this time, _crunch, crinch, crunch,_ and the more distant they became, farther did Zorina's focus from the book.

_Crunch, crinch, crinch._ The grass continued to crackle under the pressure of traveling feet, until there was the unpleasant blunt noise of foot contacting rock, a pained outcry following moments after.

Zorina smiled knowingly. _It is._

Rising stiffly from the chair, she went to the window and loosened the blinds, tightly barraging the sunlight, and peered outside, resting her elbows on the sill as she leaned forward.

There was not a village as lovely as Kakariko at dawn. At the top of the hill the enormous windmill stood glaring with its shadowed face, while beams of light erupted from behind, dribbling onto crimson rooftops in patches that made them glow like hyacinths. From the highest nook in the windmill, that Zorina had crept to so many times before, the village looked like a garden – humble, small, a patch of brilliant red flowers nestled in the contours of the mountain. In the morning, Death Mountain seemed the most imposing. Always it towered so high above Kakariko that the clouds ringed its summit, but at dawn when the sky blazed a bright orange, the shadows the sun cast into its form made it look angry, its craggy features sulking. Still, watching the small silhouette seated on a rooftop yards away, Zorina knew it was this stubborn, glowering face that drew him out at the same early hour every morning.

And, Zorina knew, it was because he rose at this hour, that many times, she did as well. Silently, she moved from the window to the door, loosing her hair just before she stepped out.

Outside, everything seemed to shine with the same reddish hue, from the grass with its glistening dew to the polished stones of the well, fringed with weeds. As Zorina advanced the figure, indiscernible shadows became a striking face, dim sparkles two glossy blue eyes, and what once blended with the golden sky formed a mess of dirty blonde hair almost identical to the color of her own. The muscles of a tanned chest and arms were illumined by sunlight, and Zorina watched him until her view was cut off by a tall brick wall, the same building he sat upon. A ladder propped against the structure, Zorina climbed until she pulled herself over the edge, and as the shingles creaked beneath her, abruptly the boy turned from the mountain to her.

"Zorina!" he exclaimed. Her heart quaked at the smile he gave her, though on the outside she struggled to mask herself with her usual detached façade.

"Link," she returned, managing a small smile, then crawled closer. On her way there she had formulated all kinds of things she could say to him, but the moment she turned to him all coherent thoughts vanished and her mind was swept completely blank.

"So what're you doin' up this early, pigeon?" he asked, nudging her gently. She almost sighed with relief – it was so much easier to answer questions than think of them herself.

Or at least she had though so, before, before she actually attempted to come up with an answer. "Ah, for the love of me I couldn't sleep at all last night, so I just stayed up, reading – "

"That same book?" She only eyed his face briefly enough to see the grin on his lips.

"Mmhmm."

"Oh, you cute little nerd," he sighed, nudging her again, then sprawled out on his back.

With him lying beside her, Zorina found it even more difficult to keep her eyes from straying to his naked torso, but keeping herself from blushing alone was a task that more than occupied her, as she thought about what he said. She despised herself for not being able to come up with anything to say, with the same effortlessness she had been able to just a couple years ago, when Link had still been the same childhood friend she had wrestled and teased and adventured with all her life. Back then holding hands or touching had been an everyday norm – but with age and more-than-friendly feelings came the anxious distance between them.

"I am not a nerd," she said finally, puffing out her cheeks.

"And I don't have these amazing, godly abs," he moaned, stroking fingers down his stomach while he made a priceless expression.

Biting her lip, Zorina extended a hand, hovering it just over his skin. "You're right," she murmured, turning over to face him. Then, grinning, she pinched a roll of fat just above his hips. "All I see are these flabs."

As he shot up, Zorina rolled over giggling, while Link prodded and poked her a few times himself to prove that she was no more perfect. When she had finished, she sat up beside him, feeling a little more at ease.

"Do you come out here every morning to look at the mountain?" Quickly she realized he might infer she watched him enough to know he came out every morning; though, whatever he thought, by the look on his face he didn't seem bothered.

"Just about," he replied, eyes set on the rocky shadows, "though I really come mostly to think."

"And work those godly abs?" Zorina smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Link snorted, shaking his head so that the thick locks falling in front of his face flew back. "What can I say? I'm irresistible." As he spoke, the words came out confidently, but Zorina only just caught the faint blush on his cheeks.

She smiled gently. "What do you think about?"

Crossing his legs, he leaned forward onto his fists, sighing. "I'm not sure if it's ever one thing, specifically." He squinted, concentrating. "I think about. . .dinner - "

Zorina sputtered, covering her mouth. Link turned on her angrily.

"I'm not done yet!" Again he placed his hands under his chin, then continued, "I think about dinner, and, fishing, how I'll get Zayru back today, just life. Oh." He rose. "And your sister." He looked upward as though pleasant images filled his mind, then bit his tongue.

Zorina's face crinkled as her eyebrows rose, and though she tried to maintain a light persona, inside her stomach reeled. Apparently, her face did not show too much displeasure, as Link looked at her with an expression just as casual as before.

"What about you?"

"What?" Zorina stared at him blankly.

The corners of his eyes creased as he grinned. "What do you think about?"

A little disheartened, she still answered softly, "Really just life, like you." She sighed, dipping her head. "Not much ever happens around here. I really wish w- I could go somewhere, get out. I wouldn't trade living here for anywhere else, just. . ." Gripping thin air, steadily she lowered her hands and relaxed her suddenly tense posture as she trailed off.

Solemnly, Link nodded. "I know what you mean." Smiling, he gazed at her. "I miss making up adventures like we used to, when cuccos were wild monsters and just walking through the graveyard was an epic quest." Going on, his eyes sparkled, and he touched a hand to her arm. "You remember when it was so hot the well dried up, and we both climbed down?"

Zorina tried to cover up how flustered she was with nonchalance. "We? Zonnie practically pushed you down, and I had to go down because. . ." Finally she could hide the smile no longer, and it spread little by little across her lips until her face was swollen with joy. "Because I couldn't just leave you there."

Link laughed, and suddenly Zorina remembered why she liked the noise so much. "Maybe so, but by the time both of us were down there you were the one crying."

Smirking, Zorina folded her arms across her chest huffily. "Lying most certainly does not become you, Mr. Link."

Gasping in disbelief, he stared at her. "What!?"

"If I do recall correctly, which I do, you were the one crying like a baby." Eyebrows raised in arches that dared him to test her, she looked at him with the most matter-of-fact expression she could muster – and apparently it worked. After only seconds of staring at her, Link shook his head and grinned.

"Y'know, you're right," he said, nodding. "If there's one thing I remember, it's that you never, ever cried. It's true." Musingly, he gazed at her. "We would do some of the scariest things little kids could do together. For one, we crawled around in the well, whether by choice or not – " he cut his eyes at her dangerously – "and we wandered around the graveyard at night, even messed around with some of the graves, and, I'll never forget when we climbed over the fence in back, and found that cave, with all the torches, that just kept going back, and going back – " His whole face beaming, he shook his head, eyes crinkling with a smile. "Some of that I still wouldn't wanna go back and do today. But as much of a baby as I mighta been, I remember – you never cried. Not once."

With wonder Zorina stared – of course she remembered their escapades to almost the finest detail, but one so entailing her courage had completely escaped her. It made her proud to the point of beaming brightly as Link – though outwardly she only shrugged shyly, trying to curb the heat rising on her cheeks.

"I never really had a reason to be afraid," she confessed, softly, "because you were always there with me."

He chuckled lightly and then splayed out again on his back. As Zorina watched his face, still casual with increasingly fading shadows painted on him, she realized her words had not left as much an impression as she'd hoped.

Though, with a gentle, sincere tone that almost shocked her, he spoke,

"You're still my best friend, right?"

She did not hesitate a second. "Absolutely." She smiled humbly, for the first time meeting his eyes without balking or glancing away. "Are you mine?"

Slouching, Link did not smile fretfully or brush her off – only stared with the same piercing sincerity as Zorina. "I'll always be." The shingles creaked as once more he sprawled back, sighing. "I wanted to ask, 'cause lately, you seemed a bit. . .evasive."

"It's. . ." Timidly Zorina lowered her eyes from his form, now swathed in pale drapes of light, wondering if she should be completely honest. ". . .only because I'm shy."

"What?" Link shot up and gave her a haughty look of disbelief as he bent at the waist, crossing his legs. Roving his eyes up and down, he snorted at her. "You? Shy?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You're the bravest person I know. What in the world do you have to be shy of?"

"I. . ." Noticing the billows of hair hanging beside her cheeks, Zorina took advantage of the long strands to conceal her embarrassment. His praise, she felt, was much exaggerated, as though he talked about a different person entirely, but still she couldn't help but savor the sense of admiration in his words. In herself, she simply couldn't see what he seemed to so effortlessly. "I don't know."

Blue eyes crinkling, he grinned. "Exactly." Zorina tried not to stare, but his smile so true, just for her, only for her, left her mind whisked blank and everything else null. Having watched him for years, she knew he was cocky, silly, and most of all, womanizing – but this boy was her friend, her best friend. And in him, when he was with her, she could see the absolute, honest person he was, under all the thick skin and pretense. And she loved him.

"Thank you, Link," she gushed. Suddenly, she felt like soaring, imagining herself rolling through the posh, swollen clouds overhead.

Though the smile dwelled on Link's lips, his expression suddenly grew more somber. Eyelids drooping, he murmured, "You remember what else we used to do as kids?"

Though Zorina had no idea what he was talking about, she recoiled slightly, diffident, his expression making her blush. "Mm?"

"Kiss." Swiftly he leaned and pecked her cheek, then whipped back, sliding down the roof, shingles clinking underneath him, until he dropped over the edge. Not a second had passed until Zorina, dazed, registered the loud _thump_ and outcry as he collided with the ground, though not even a laugh escaped her as she sat, trapped in shock.

Thoughts throbbed against her skull, persisting that she not overreact, get her hopes up, think he was serious or that it had meant anything special – long enough she sat there, downsizing the kiss, that what had once burned on her cheek felt like only a numb wound. Yes, she loved him, yes, she would have loved it – perhaps would have believed it meant something, had she not known Link better.

Pouting slightly, trying not to let the one thing make the whole morning go bitter, Zorina scooted, sliding down the side of the roof similar to the way Link had, and touched the grass as she landed gracefully on her feet. Sighing a little more wearily than usual, Zorina ran a hand over the front of her skirt once, then the back, and set off.

In the later hour the sky had congealed a cloud-swirled, icy blue and instead of tired crickets' chirping and the moaning of lonely animals, the twill of merry songbirds and bustle of bedsheets tossing and bacon frying filled the air. As she proceeded through the wide streets, laden with clover and flowering weeds, the fragrance of warm breakfasts made her mouth water. A few drowsy men that had already risen as well, she waved to as she passed, and thoughtlessly scooping up a crudely-crafted pail propped on the side of a building, she progressed in the routine direction she took every morning.

It was this same mindless routine that drove her desire for adventure, to get away – everyday, it was exactly the same. Fetch the bucket, wave to the neighbors, walk, walk, go to the well, get the wa –

As she reached in over the dilapidated structure, bucket in hand, a shiver in the water caught her eye, but before Zorina could even realize, or predict, an enormous torrent flogged upward and exploded over the sides, knocking her to her back, breathless. As the violent waves crashed away from her, she could only look up and clamp down on a scream at the figure conjured entirely of water floating above her before another gentler surge flooded over her – as though complete restraint constrained a more powerful blow.

Coughing, Zorina flinched at the voice above her, struggling to clamber away, until –

"Oh, Zori, Zorina, I'm so sorry!"

She knew that voice – turning over weakly, Zorina glimpsed up against the sudden sunlight. Wet sparkles glistened on striking lilac hair, and large violet eyes blinked rapidly, the lashes so long they seemed to fan the air – and if it that wasn't enough, the voice affirmed it.

"Z-. . .Zayru?" Zorina grumbled, raising a hand to shelter her eyes from the light.

"Oh, Zorina, I'm so sorry, I thought you were Link! He almost always comes for water before you, so – " Kneeling beside her, the unusually tall girl extended long, slender fingers, and like a magnet the water soaking Zorina's body sluiced to her fingertips, straight through the air, collecting until a spiraling ball of water gurgled in her hands. Fondling it in her fingers, Zayru's eyes flashed, and in one abrupt movement she slammed her palms together, and the water completely vanished. Grinning smugly, she turned to Zorina, who stared with mouth agape.

"I can't believe it, no matter how many times I see it," she muttered, nonplussed, running fingers through her dry, silken hair. "And that!" Her flailing arms gestured toward the well. "You were all water yourself, and you practically drowned me, and – "

"And nearly drowning you is a good thing?" Zayru raised her eyebrows.

Zorina's shoulders drooped and she looked at her sullenly. "No. But." Ardently, she smacked her fists together and gained her feet. Even standing, Zayru towered over her, as she did most everyone else in the village – most Hylians didn't tend to be very tall in stature, but Zayru had been blessed, whereas Link and Zorina were practically cursed. Zorina couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the top of a person's head, and though they could look each other directly in the eye Link never passed up a chance to call her "shorty." "But, but you and Zonnie just both have your gifts, and they're amazing, and I –"

In the middle of her sentence, standing just under a rooftop, a woman flung open the window overhead and dumped out unwanted dishwater all over Zorina's head, trickling down until she stood in a puddle of the muck. Zayru's hand flew to her mouth as she bit down on a laugh.

Silent, Zorina's eyes narrowed as she spat out the water that'd run into her mouth. "I get to put up with things like this all day."

Still maiming her laughter to the point her face glowed red, Zayru already had her hands cupped, drawing the water to herself. "Oh, you know you've got a gift, too – "

"Longsuffering?" Zorina sighed, arms crossed.

Zayru smirked. "I must admit, you are slow to anger. . ." Noticing Zorina's wandering stare, Zayru traced her gaze to where Link was walking, several yards away – when suddenly he looked over, saw Zorina drenched in the dirty water, and doubled over, hooting. Zayru rolled her eyes. "Though, of course, that's most likely the result of putting up with _him_ all these years. . ."

Zorina made no response, only dipped her head in shame.

"Well, next time I try out my little well trick, I'll be sure it's Link, instead of you." Patting Zorina's cheek, Zayru collected the last little driblet of water and smashed it into thin air like before – though instead of falling in long, shining strands like before, Zorina's hair was a mess of frizz splaying out in all different directions from her scalp. Wide-eyed, Zayru balked slightly, though she could not wipe the expression away before Zorina noticed.

"What?" she asked innocently. "Is it okay?" Glancing into the puddle at her feet, she answered her own question. Looking back up, however, she tried not to appear too disheartened, attempting a small laugh. "I guess it's just one of those days. . ."

Zayru smiled ruefully. "Oh, you. . .It's not that ba- " Zorina glanced up at her. "Well, okay, yes, it's pretty bad, but – who cares?" Zorina gazed up at her again. Zayru pouted. "Oh, stop it." Nudging her, they both pushed into a slow, aimless walk. "What were you thinking of doing today?"

Zorina sighed heavily, wearily, not trying to hold up her head anymore. "I don't know. There's always work, but. . .I'd go fishing, maybe, but I doubt Link'd lend me his rod since he goes almost everyday, and even then I doubt – " Shambling to one side, Zorina quickly regained her footing. "Even then, I doubt I'd have the energy to make it to the River. . ." Moaning, she buried her face into her hands. "Right now, I'd just like to fall in bed."

Zayru eyed her concernedly. "D'you stay up all night, again?"

"Mmhmm," she mumbled.

"Well, we'll find something to do," Zayru assured her. "You got a new dress for the festival yet?"

Exhausted, Zorina shook her head.

"Well then," Zayru said, triumphant, "we could go to the castle and look for some."

"I guess," Zorina murmured behind her fingers.

As they neared the southern end of town, they saluted the soldier on vigil, looped around and began in the opposite direction, back toward the well.

"Isn't Zonnie coming down, then?"

"Yuhaaah," she answered, her words breaking into a yawn. Stretching, she finally removed her hands from her face, and then went on, "It's about the only time she'll come down anymore. What with him hounding her nonstop, whenever she does."

Folding her arms, Zayru nodded scornfully. "Like a lost puppy."

"Maybe this year, we should tie him up and stuff him somewhere."

"Or just kill him." As Link strode by them, a fishing pole propped over his shoulder, they couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Really, it might save Zonnie the trouble herself."

Zorina sighed, shaking her head. "You think you're joking. . ."

"Well, either way," Zayru said, "to be completely honest, I know she's your sister, but I personally don't mind her coming only once a year. She's just. . ."

"Yeah. . ." Zorina nodded. "But she's my sister, and I love her. And if Link bothers her just as much this year, I wouldn't doubt if it'll be the last time she ever visits."

Briefly, there was silence, and then Zayru spoke up. "You know how each province has their own ambassador representing them in Castle Town, right? Like, the Gorons, Zoras. . ."

Zorina smirked, thinking she might already know where Zayru was heading.

"Well, d'you hear about the new emissary they're acquiring from the Gerudo?"

"That. . .that Kaepora-woman?"

"Yup, she's their leader. After all these on-and-off quibbles the Hyrulians are finally trying to make peace, and. . ."

"Since she finally agreed, they're throwing a gala in the castle?" Zorina nodded, smiling. "I read it in the paper. It's a big deal because all these years the Gerudo have been lone wolves, separated from the rest of Hyrule, and it's always been the kingdom's ambition to be a unified nation."

"And all that's left are the Kokiri. But since they can't leave the Lost Woods themselves, and it's an incredible bother to send a messenger back and forth _all the time_ – " Here Zayru smiled, and her gaze on Zorina grew remarkably pertinent. " – at the castle, they're searching for the perfect ambassador, the same week of Kaepora Ephagora's gala." Zayru shrugged. "And you're just telling me how you always want to get out, go somewhere. . ."

Gasping lightly, Zorina covered her mouth. Already she had read the article, but hearing it aloud, with tangible sound, seemed to grip her with a tangible force. "Zayru, do you really think I could. . .?"

"Why not?"

Snapping from her daze, Zorina nearly glared up at her. "Out of all the lawyers, all the politicians – " she gestured a wide motion with her arms – "all the geniuses in Hyrule, why would they pick me?"

Zayru sighed, smirking. "You really do belittle yourself. You know how good you are at debating. Arguing. Politician…ing." And it was true. Whenever the residents of Kakariko gathered to decide on something integral, more often than not, Zorina was there, all timidity forgotten, laying out the basics, the pros and cons, the consequences – and also the majority of the time, the crowd swayed in her direction and things went her way, despite her age. And whenever Link, or anyone, made her truly angry, she was there with the hottest, most cutting retort, regardless of how horrible she would feel later. Whenever order was called, she was not afraid to step up.

And she could not deny the longing to flaunt those skills, not just in a small, mundane village, but in a court, with kings and high officials, in an environment where she could truly make a difference. She dreamt of a place where she could experience, learn, not just slowly waste away, hoping for even the most subtle change, and the reciprocation of feelings she knew would never be returned.

"Well," Zorina murmured, "when was this supposed to be?"

Zayru bit down on her tongue as her lips spread into a grin. "The week after the festival."

Zorina's eyes widened. "That's not long at all. . ."

"Nope, so. . .you'd best get crackin'."

Suddenly overrun with thoughts, Zorina clutched a frond of her frazzly hair, then looked up at Zayru fretfully. "Should I. . .go talk to the Kokiri?"

She blew out her cheeks. "They've restricted campaigning to the week of the gala. It's a serious matter and that's not much time at all to represent your values as a candidate, but, I guess they figured if they're adding new members to their cabinet, they're gonna add 'em all together."

Zorina's grip tightened. "A week?! Well. . ." Gradually, her hands lowered to her sides, slowing running her fingers down her face as she thought. "No matter who wins, I'll be glad for the experience." Breathing out once, she clenched her fists and smiled, fondly watching Link's form approaching in the distance. "For the time being, I just gotta start preparing myself. . ."

As he neared, she couldn't help but realize his eyes transfixed so absolutely on her, and for a moment, mustered a perfect smile – until he fell to the ground, laughing, and suddenly she remembered her awful hair.

Zorina smacked her face. "For anything. . ."

Having retained her laughter the whole morning, finally Zayru gave in and joined Link in the grass, giggling almost just as hard. "Like you said, dear," she choked out, "it's just one of those days."

* * *

_Seated in her makeshift throne of bricks and bones, she yearns for the day when she will recline in that made of gold and pearl, edged with silver. When she will be clothed in gossamer and silk rather than these rags of cloth, when bronze skin baked in the sun will be ghostly white from only sitting –_

Sitting, dozing, for all she must do is lift a finger and they go running, scurrying, to carry out her every order, heed her every wanting, as the world burns like the fire in the hearth before her, fueled as much as she decrees by the abundance of coal or lack thereof. It is however she wishes – as she lies warm, sheathed in comfort by a modest fire, while just outside the stony walls they writhe, cold, with their faces pressed to the brick, crying,

"Let me in! Let me in!"

But it is as though she never hears them. For inside, warm and sitting, resting, her worries are naught as she rules the world with only the lift of a finger from her throne of gold and pearl, edged with silver.


End file.
